Frozen Yearning
by Natalia Vronsky
Summary: The land around them is frozen, but their hearts remain warm. A Christmas Caryl Story. Dedicated to Yearningflush - written for the Caryl Secret Santa 2013 on Tumblr.


Summary: The land around them is frozen, but their hearts remain warm. A Christmas Caryl Story. Written for the Caryl Secret Santa 2013 on Tumblr. Dedicated to Yearningflush – I hope you enjoy!  
Disclaimer: I own nothing. Walking Dead and all characters belong to a whole bunch of people who aren't me, mainly Robert Kirkman.

* * *

Carol stood in the kitchen after everyone had been served. Everyone was gathered in the cramped dining room, enjoying the warmth the fireplace and body heat provided. She smiled to herself as she listened to the hum of voices and laughter just beyond the doorway. She quietly loaded down one of the last plates with food; the last remaining she was far less generous with. She covered that one and set it to the side. She would eat when she got back. The one weighted with steaming heaps of chicken and veggies was balanced in her hand as she turned to get a couple of the biscuits, placing those on top before covering it and wrapping it in a dish towel to keep it warm.

Patricia walked back into the kitchen just as Carol was debating what sort of drink would go with the meal. There were bottles of water and Herschel had brought up some pop from the cellar. Biting her lip, she grabbed one of each. The other woman arched her brow as she placed the remaining biscuits in a bowl. "You're not honestly going out in this weather, are you?"

Carol felt herself flush. As the days had gotten colder, the blonde had become more and more vocal about her evening jaunts to the edge of the property where Daryl Dixon was still taking up residence.

She'd charged herself with the task of taking him supper every night. She'd started taking him breakfast, but more often than not, he'd be gone before the sun even rose. But he was always back at his camp once night fell, so supper it was. Certainly out of everyone on the farm, he was the most capable of taking care of himself. And more often than not, she would find him skinning some creature he'd hunted. But going out there every night on the pretext of food delivery allowed her the opportunity to see him… talk to him – what little conversation there was to be had, and to simply be near him even if only for a precious few moments.

"It's not too cold," she said, giving Patricia a tight smile that the woman didn't return. She simply shook her head and went back into the dining room.

Her chest ached imagining not seeing him. It'd become vital to her that she see him at least once a day. It broke her heart to think that he would never come to her as he had before Sophia had stumbled out of that damned barn. The shy, gentle soul she'd come to know hadn't reappeared. Not since that night he had yelled and made to strike her.

For a moment after Rick and Glenn had returned from town with a drunken Herschel in tow, after Lori had her seemingly impossible car crash, and they were all gathered in the house, he'd looked at her, nodded to her. She'd given him as much of a smile as she could muster. He was wearing clothes he hadn't worn before and his hair was slicked down in an effort to look presentable. She thought maybe they could fix whatever had been broken between them.

Herschel told the group that they were welcome to move in. It would be a tight fit, but they'd manage. After, she'd moved to speak to Daryl, but he'd stomped out of the house for no reason. And despite protests from the men of the group, he refused to leave his camp.

Everything was tentative and stilted between them. If she was in the house and he happened to stop by to check in with Rick and Shane, he'd avoid eye contact at all costs. If she approached him, he'd quickly find an excuse to leave.

All that might have disheartened her except for the fact that he never told her to leave when she came by at night. The first night he'd glared. Barking out "what the hell do you want now?"

Sucking in air and courage, she'd dumbly held the plate in front of her, hands shaking. "I just wanted to bring you this. There was plenty for everyone." She'd cringed when she'd recognized the tone she'd used to placate Ed in his worst moments. It was unfair to Daryl. He wasn't anything like Ed. Ed never would have looked for Sophia, let alone almost die for her.

He'd looked surprised then. The hackles that had risen slowly lowered. Still he'd grunted "got my own food. Don't need any of that."

With a cheerfulness that had her cringing at herself, she smiled and placed the dish down near where he sat. "Well, you can always save it for tomorrow morning." Legs shaking, she'd all but run back to the house, feeling stupid. She told herself she wouldn't bother him again.

The next morning while she was doing dishes, he'd walked in quietly, handing her the empty plate with a quick "thanks" and he was gone again. And so it had become their ritual.

Sometimes she'd sit with him while he ate and chatter about the day, other times, she'd simply hand it off and return to the house.

She took a moment to look inside, watching everyone dig into their food. With a sigh, she took the plate and drinks before she made her way out the backdoor, holding it open with her hip, she spied the parcel she had wrapped earlier that day. Glad she'd spotted it before she'd gone too far, she got it, adding it to the collection of items she was taking out to him before rushing out into the icy air.

* * *

Daryl lay on his back inside his tent. All he wanted to do was wrap himself in his sleeping bag and blankets and go to sleep, but he knew it was nearing time for Carol to come by. He looked out, seeing a light dusting of snow flow on the breeze. Maybe the weather would actually keep her in. Rain hadn't stopped her and neither had the ever decreasing temperatures. Snow would surely be the thing.

He bit at his cuticles as he thought about her. It wasn't that he didn't want her to come out. He just didn't know what to do about her half the time. She confused the hell out of him and he never knew what to say to her.

After they had found Sophia, after his failure, and her reaction, which had seemed like such a slap in the face at the time, he was certain she would never speak to him again. He had planned on leaving; but she'd surprised him. Telling him he'd earned his place. That she wasn't going to let him pull away.

He'd been toying with the idea of moving into the house. His tent wasn't made for snow and it was only going to get colder as it moved further into winter. But the thought of being closed in with all those people filled him with anxiety. He remembered from the CDC that Carol was claustrophobic and he wondered how it was that she coped.

"Shit," he muttered, shaking his head, displeased with his thoughts for turning to her again.

He heard her footfall then, on the cold, hard ground. She stopped, shuffling around. He could imagine her, looking around anxiously. His fire was out and his tent was shut up with no lights. He wondered if she would even approach his tent, or if she would return to the house. He could pretend to be asleep and maybe she would finally stop her nightly visits.

With a huff he sat up. Just then he heard her whisper his name.

"Daryl?"

"Yeah, yeah," flicking on his lantern, he unzipped the tent a fraction. She moved closer, clutching his dinner and some other items in her arms, shivering. She only had a thin sweater to shield her from the cold and snow. "Jesus, get in," he pulled the zipper all the way across the opening.

She stepped inside cautiously, crouching beside the entrance nervously. He zipped it back up behind her, kneeling there, looking up at her. "Brought you supper," she smiled, her face pink from the cold.

She shuffled the items in her arms and handed him the covered and wrapped plate. He took it from her with a quick "thanks". Still smiling, she sat down gracelessly beside him. From her bundle she pulled two bottles and for a second his hopes were raised, thinking it might be beer, but a quick glance proved his hopes wrong. She set the water and soda in front of him and then hugged the remaining item to her chest.

He dug into the plate while she sat there, her smile not quite the smile he was used to seeing. There was a little quirk to it and those ridiculously blue eyes of hers were glittering brightly. "What?" He managed around a mouthful of food.

"Do you know what tomorrow is?" Good lord, did she want to play some sort of guessing game with him, now?

"Another day in fuckin' paradise?"

Her face fell for a second before she smiled again. She shook her head. "Tomorrow is Christmas."

He snorted. Was that supposed to mean something to him? "And?"

She blinked and looked down at the package she held. "Well, Herschel let us go Christmas shopping in his attic." She rolled her eyes. "Best we could do, really. No one wanted to skip the day."

"Just another day," he washed down the food with a long swig from the water bottle.

She bit her lip, all the joy gone from her face. "I guess you're right. Anyway, this is for you." She slid the package across the space between them.

He looked down at it, then back at her, eyes narrowing. It was neatly wrapped in plain paper. Staring down at it, he swallowed, fighting back the swell of emotions threatening to overtake him.

"Go on," she nudged it against his legs, "open it."

He lifted it gingerly, looking for the seam to unwrap it with the same care she put into wrapping it, but he found his shaking hands not up to the task and the paper ripped. He flinched at the sound and looked up at her. "Sorry."

She laughed, a watery smile on her lips. "Wrapping paper is meant to be ripped."

Nodding, he finished pulling the paper apart. Inside was a soft, worn leather jacket. Surprised, he looked up at her with a raised brow and a huffed laugh. "The old man had this?"

"I hear he used to be quite the bad boy back in the day." Shrugging, she unfolded herself from her sitting position. "I hope it fits."

He shook it out and slid it on – it was a little big, but not enough to be a hindrance. He could even put his vest over it if he loosened the laces.

Her sunny smile was back. "Looks good."

He felt his cheeks grow warm and he ducked his head, pretending to look over the jacket. "Thanks."

She hesitated for a moment after she unzipped the tent. "Goodnight."

He reached up, taking her dainty wrist in his hand. "Sorry I don't got nothin' for you."

Sliding her hand out of his grasp, she squeezed his fingers before she pulled away, stepping out of the tent, "its okay. That's not what Christmas is about."

"Merry Christmas, Carol," he said before she could walk away.

Pulling the sweater tight around her she smiled before turning away. "Merry Christmas, Daryl."

* * *

Author's Note: I should have 1 or 2 more chapters of this soon! In the meantime, I highly recommend you go check out "Wordless" by LohitaM. She was my Secret Santa and her story is beautiful.


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